
redward |

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves cover the walls of this dimly lit library, with shorter stacks creating small dividers in the room’s interior. A reading table sits empty and unused in the library’s center. The shelves are a mass of fluttering pages, and books rearrange themselves and fly across the room constantly.
A frustrated and confused middle-aged Chelish man searches the shelves the best he can as the books fly through the air, shifting about haphazardly.
The Chelish man spins at your brazen entrance into the library and takes a defensive spellcasting posture.
"Who--who are you!?" he demands.

![]() |

"Pathfinders, who are you?"
Inevitable Sense Motive
1d20 + 19 ⇒ (9) + 19 = 28

![]() |
Eath'Corisar attempts to calm the man down by engaging in non-threatening conversation. Diplomacy: 1d20+15; 11+15 = 26
We are Pathfinders. We are trapped here and are seeking a way out. This seems to be quite the frustrating library. How ever do you get any work done? Does your spell book fly around as well? If so how can you memorize your new spells? I know I certainly would be too distracted to memorize mine for the day. Did you do your studying at the Academy? A former participant?

redward |

The man responds to Liam, "Pathfinders? Here? Why?"
"I am Terentius. I made a mistake." He shakes his head, clearly distracted. The man resumes his searching through the shelves. When Corisar speaks, his words barely seem to register, until...
"Spellbook? SPELLBOOK?"
His activity reaches a fevered pitch.
"Do you see it? Do you have it? It must be here. It must be here!"
He looks up and shouts, "It would be a breach of contract if it were not!"
He looks to you with wild eyes, "Please, you must help me."

redward |

"When I breached the Hall of Wards, I ended up here. I couldn't find a way out. A devil named Chyvvom offered my release if I would just sign a contract with him. I refused."
"But after months of solitude and Chyvvom's taunts, I traded my soul for a chance at release. I only had to find my spellbook in this library."
"But as you can see, he's made it impossible. Just as soon as I think I've found it, everything...moves!"
He jumps at a shelf, and its contents fly into the air, scattering like birds.
"It's a standard Mead Spellbook. College ruled. Bound in burgundy naga-hide."
His description sounds much like the book you found across the hall.
Who still has which buffs up at this point?